


Potion Commotion

by hexagonad (ideserveyou)



Category: The Mighty Boosh (TV)
Genre: Angst, Comedy, Fluff, Love Potion/Spell, M/M, Party, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-14
Updated: 2013-11-14
Packaged: 2018-01-01 12:00:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1044573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ideserveyou/pseuds/hexagonad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Board of Shamen hold an impromptu Valentine's Day party at Naboo's flat. Things go wrong. Can Vince help sort them out again?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 'Get your cauldron out, you little tit, and make it snappy. We need a punch and we need it fast.'

**Author's Note:**

> Written for castie67's V-Day prompt on the Boosh Slash Haven on LJ: 'The Shamen throw a party at the flat. Unbeknownst to others attending, several of the shamen (author's choice) each bring along a love potion. Each surreptitiously slips the love potion into the "punch" without knowledge of the others. A very strange and potent brew is consumed by shamen and humans alike. Shenanigans occur. Any and all pairings and combinations welcome.'

Vince drums his heels on the floor, and frowns at the TV screen. ‘This is rubbish. Why are we watching it?’

‘Because it’s Valentine’s Day.’ Howard raises his beer bottle to his lips, and takes another swig. ‘And there’s nothing else to watch, unless you want to watch _Four Weddings and a Funeral_ , and you know that always makes you cry.’

‘Me too,’ a deep voice agrees from the far end of the sofa.

Naboo takes the hash pipe out of his mouth and frowns. ‘Shut up, Bollo. This is my flat an’ my TV an’ that makes it my choice of channel. I’m not havin’ you two snivellin’ all over each other.’

‘Yeah, but did you have to choose _The Hundred All-time Most Romantic Power Ballads_?’

‘I’m a romantic at heart,’ Naboo says, deadpan. ‘An’ I quite like Celine Dion.’

Vince shakes his head in despair. ‘You’ve gone wrong.’

‘We’ve all gone wrong,’ Howard says, getting up and going to the fridge. ‘Otherwise we’d all have dates tonight and the TV channel wouldn’t be an issue... Anyone else want another beer?’

‘Might as well.’ Vince holds out a hand for the cold bottle. More alcohol might just get him through the evening without putting a platform boot through the TV screen. Although it’s going to be a close thing... ‘Cheers, Howard.’

Howard slumps back into the corner of the sofa beside him. ‘You’re welcome.’

He doesn’t sound as though he means it. He sounds well pissed off. Vince wonders whether he himself is the cause of that.

Surely Howard can’t entirely blame Vince for failing to produce the sure-thing Valentine’s dates he’d had lined up for both of them? As a modern man of the world, Howard must understand that sometimes girls change their minds when you show them a photo of a bloke with a moustache... perhaps it wasn’t the moustache, perhaps it was the very short shorts combined with the pork-pie hat and the medallion? Maybe if he’d chosen another picture...

Vince is quite relieved when his train of thought is derailed by the doorbell going.

‘I’ll get it.’ Naboo pads downstairs and they hear him open the door and say ‘Oh,’ a bit nonplussed. Then there are lots of footsteps on the stairs, and the happy chatter of several voices, and a clinking of bottles in carrier bags.

‘I got a bad feeling about dis,’ Bollo mutters, and a moment later the room is full of people. Loosely speaking, anyway, since at least one of them is a legless alien...

‘Oh fuck,’ Howard groans. ‘This is the last thing we need. The entire Bucket of Shitheads.’

And so it is. The entire Board of Shamen: Dennis the Head Shaman and his wife Methuselah, Tony Harrison, Kirk, Saboo, Diane, and at least a dozen other robe-clad individuals whose names and faces Vince doesn’t know but most of whose hats are completely genius.

All are clutching bottles and snacks and party poppers, which they dump on the coffee table.

‘Happy Valentine’s Day!’ Harrison crows, sticking out a pink tentacle to grab the TV remote. ‘You can turn that gloomy shit off for a start. We’re ’avin’ a party!’

‘What do you want,’ Kirk asks, fiddling with the controls of the hi-fi. ‘Dubstep or garage?’

‘We do not mind,’ Methuselah tells him, ‘but just don’t mention acid house or my Dennis will freak out.’

‘We saw in the crystal ball that you were all on your own tonight,’ Dennis says very seriously to Naboo, ‘so we thought we’d come over and cheer you up.’

‘I wasn’t on my own,’ Naboo protests, but Tony dismisses Howard, Vince and Bollo with a wave of a tentacle. ‘As good as, my son. Call this lot company? More like mourners at a fuckin’ funeral.’

Saboo puts a hand on Naboo’s shoulder, making him jump. ‘Get your cauldron out, you little tit, and make it snappy. We need a punch and we need it fast.’

‘Yeah,’ Kirk adds, ‘some of us haven’t had a drink in over half an hour.’

Diane frowns down at him. ‘Some of us aren’t old enough to drink.’ Kirk serenely ignores her and starts unpacking bottles onto the kitchen worktop.

‘C’m’on Bollo,’ Naboo says resignedly, ‘get the cauldron.’

The punch is mixed, accompanied by a lot of arguing and commenting and ‘help’ from the other shamen; crisps are opened, pills are popped, and soon there is a party going.

Howard slumps in the corner of the sofa, frowning into his glass, ignoring (and being ignored by) everybody.

Vince has a vague feeling that perhaps he should go and talk to Howard, but he just can’t help moving to the music, the bass pumping through his ribcage and making his heart and his whole body keep time.

There is a touch on his leg; he jumps, and looks down into Tony Harrison’s grinning pink face.

‘Hey,’ Harrison shouts above the noise, ‘you are one sexy mover. I think I’ve got platform boot envy.’ He rubs himself against the silver leather enclosing Vince’s calf. ‘Wanna dance?’

‘I _was_ dancing, you pink freak,’ Vince says indignantly. ‘You’ve put me off my rhythm now.’

‘I’ve got a rhythm of me own.’ Tony starts to hump Vince’s ankle in time to the music.

Vince shakes his leg frantically. ‘Get off me. I’m – I’m gonna get a drink. Find someone else’s leg to climb.’

‘This is an outraaaage!’ Tony squawks, as he flies through the air and disappears into the crowd.

Vince turns his back and heads into the kitchen.

The punch is bubbling softly in its cauldron on the table. It’s a pretty shade of pink, but Vince has had long experience of Naboo’s ‘brews’ and he isn’t sure about this one; it was a bit of a rush job after all.

He is about to play it safe and go for another beer instead when Naboo appears from behind a chair, brandishing a brimming glass of the pink liquid. ‘Drink, Vince?’

‘Ummm... okay then.’ Vince takes the glass; it feels slightly warm. ‘Thanks, Naboo.’

His first cautious sip confirms his suspicions. It tastes completely horrible. How on earth Naboo has managed to make something that is too sweet even for Vince’s sweet tooth, Vince doesn’t know and doesn’t want to know. It’s like Parma Violets and Turkish Delight and Floral Gums all mixed together and super-concentrated. Only about a million times worse.

‘Good, isn’t it?’ Naboo is looking at him with wide, anxious-puppy eyes; it would be unbearable to hurt his feelings...

Vince nerves himself to take another mouthful. ‘You’ve excelled yourself tonight, Naboolio. Never tasted anythin’ like it.’

The little shaman’s face lights up with relief. ‘Oh, good. Was a bit worried about this one, between you an’ me, too many cooks an’ all that... it changed colour a few times but it seems to be stable now....’

‘Cheers.’ Vince clinks his glass against Naboo’s. ‘Hey, you should smile more often, you know, it suits you.’

‘You what?’

‘Never mind,’ Vince says hastily. ‘I’ll, um, go an’ see if anyone else needs a top-up, shall I?’

He leaves Naboo happily stirring the cauldron, and sashays to the other side of the room, where he swiftly tips the rest of his undrinkable drink into the potted climbing plant next to the TV.

There’s an almost-full bottle of sparkling rosé wine on top of the set; Vince fills his glass with that instead, hoping Naboo won’t notice the difference.

Feeling slightly guilty, he glances across the room; from the kitchen, Naboo raises a glass to him and smiles again.

It _does_ suit him.

‘Ah, Vince. Good to see you.’ Dennis looms up, seemingly out of nowhere, and stands very close to Vince, backing him against the television set.

‘Alright, Dennis?’ Vince wonders how much the man’s had to drink. ‘Enjoying the party?’

The Head Shaman’s blue eyes are wide and unfocussed. He reaches out a big hand to stroke Vince’s hair. ‘This is the most beautiful hair I have ever seen,’ he says earnestly. ‘I do love a nice head of hair, wish I had one myself...’

Vince smiles politely and ducks under Dennis’s arm, losing himself in the crowd. Dennis has evidently had several too many, or maybe he was just getting off on the atmosphere in the room, heady with drugs and smoke and the sweet, perfumey smell of the punch.

Vince pats his hair back into perfect shape and goes back to the dance floor, carefully avoiding looking in Dennis’s direction too often, although Dennis is now apparently absorbed in a deep conversation with Bollo.

‘Good party, this.’ Kirk pops up in front of Vince and grins at him.

Vince just nods and keeps on dancing.

‘You want some pills?’

Vince glances down at the handful of gear the small blond boy is proffering, and shakes his head. ‘Not tonight, thanks, I’m sorted.’

‘Suit yourself.’ Kirk shoves the pills back in his pocket. He’s still grinning broadly, his pupils blown wide and dark. ‘Hey, those are brilliant boots, by the way.’

‘Cheers. I had them specially made, cost a fortune but they are well genius.’

‘Yeah, they are. They put your crotch at just the right height...’ Kirk stares at Vince’s tight trousers, licking his lips in a way that’s entirely inappropriate for his pre-teen body and angelic little face.

He clearly takes Vince’s stunned silence as an invitation, and moves closer, rubbing against Vince’s knee. ‘Shall we take this to the bedroom, then?’

‘No _way_ , what is wrong with you people? I mean, I know it’s Valentine’s Day an’ all that, but there are limits...’

‘Is this little titbox bothering you?’ Saboo appears beside Vince and glares at Kirk. ‘Go on, beat it, hit on someone your own size.’

Kirk looks mulish.

‘I said get lost.’ Saboo pulls him away from Vince. ‘Or I’ll never take you to see another Squarebob Spongepants film ever again.’

‘All right, all right, I’m going. But it’s not _fair_ ,’ Kirk pouts.

‘Life’s not fair. But if you take enough pills you’ll stop caring. Now piss off and let the grownups talk.’

Kirk sticks his tongue out behind Saboo’s back and vanishes into a group of girls.

‘I’m sorry about that.’ Saboo has a bottle in his hand; he refills Vince’s glass. ‘Pink champagne. None of your cheap rubbish, this is the real deal... cheers.’

Their glasses clink; their fingers meet.

Vince hastily puts down his drink and rejoins the dancers.

‘You know, you really are a classy mover. Harrison isn’t right about much, but he’s right about you.’ Saboo is right beside Vince again. ‘Here, have some more bubbles.’

He holds out Vince’s full glass, but he’s looking into Vince’s eyes and misses his outstretched hand; the whole lot goes straight down Vince’s front.

Vince shrieks with indignation. ‘What are you doin’, you idiot?’

Saboo is looking with frank appreciation at Vince’s wet T-shirt and drainpipes; he puts a hand on Vince’s arm. ‘Whoops. Sorry.’

‘ _Sorry_ don’t begin to cover it,’ Vince snaps. ‘I need to go an’ change.’

‘I’ll come with you.’

‘No you bleedin’ won’t. Piss off an’ pour your posh booze over someone else.’

Vince wriggles away, his wet shirt clinging stickily to his stomach, only to find his escape blocked by yet another shaman.

‘Had an accident?’ Diane says kindly, putting a hand on his arm. ‘Here, let me help you with that. I’m a dab hand at washing.’

‘I’m fine, thanks.’ Vince backs away.

‘No, you’re not.’ Diane’s green face is full of concern. ‘You can’t stay in that wet shirt, you’ll catch cold.’ She takes hold of the soggy fabric, yanks the bottom of Vince’s shirt up, and strokes his bellybutton. ‘Oooh, you’re all sticky. I’ll just get this in the machine, then I can run you a nice bath and get you all clean too...’

‘Just leave me alone!’ Vince storms out and locks himself in his bedroom.

He checks in the wardrobe and under the bed, just in case there are any more oversexed magical nutjobs lying in wait for him, but thankfully there aren’t.

Vince strips to his underpants and carefully cleans the stickiness off his precious boots.

He takes his time picking another outfit, eventually dressing down into black drainpipes and his old Stones T-shirt and some very understated cowboy boots.

He could do without attracting any more attention.

In fact he thinks seriously about hiding in his room for the rest of the party, but all that sparkling wine is having its inevitable effect and he really needs the bathroom.

He peeks cautiously out of his door. The noise level’s dropped... someone has changed the music... is that Whitney? Surely not. But then again....

‘ _I...eee...I... Will always... Love You...oo_...’

Several tuneless, drunken voices are singing along, Bollo’s and Tony Harrison’s among them.

There’s nobody in sight; Vince dashes for the bathroom and locks himself in.

He’s just washing his hands when Naboo comes through the bathroom door without bothering to open it, drops to his knees in front of the toilet bowl, and starts to be horribly and violently sick.

Vince doesn’t really do sick, it makes his own insides feel all queasy and he never knows what to do to help, but he can’t leave Naboo like this.

Trying to blank out the sounds of coughing and retching, Vince kneels beside Naboo and holds his hair out of the way, like Howard always does when Vince has overdone it on the Flying Saucers yet again.

Sick in your hair is the pits. And Naboo has such fabulous hair, heavy and silky and so soft...

Finally the worst seems to be over, and Naboo slumps down into an exhausted heap, moaning faintly. Vince carries on stroking that beautiful hair, while he tries to remember the other comforting things Howard always does...

There’s always a towel. And a glass of water. And a nice back-rub while Howard waits for him to recover.

It’s hard to let go of Naboo, but two out of those three need Vince to get up and fetch them.

Naboo wipes his face; sits up and sips at the water. After a while he says in a small voice: ‘Sorry.’

‘You ’ad a bit too much?’ Vince rubs slow circles across Naboo’s back.

‘No, someone’s spiked the punch.’

‘What with?’

‘Love potions.’ Naboo looks tragic.

Vince giggles. ‘A love potion? That explains a lot. I’ve ’ad five shamen try to get off with me already tonight... hey, how come you’re not comin’ on to me as well?’

‘They don’t work on me.’ Naboo looks even more tragic. ‘I’m allergic to them..’

‘So that’s why you were throwin’ up.’

‘Yeah.’ Naboo sniffs, and wipes his eyes on the towel.

‘Hey.’ Vince puts an arm round him. ‘It’s not that bad.’

‘Yes, it fuckin’ well is that bad.’ Naboo struggles to get to his feet. ‘You’ve no idea what’s happenin’ out there. It’s not just one love potion, it’s at least three or four – those idiots must’ve all brought their own home-brews and tipped them in while I wasn’t looking. They’re all all over each other, it’s gonna be a right mess to sort out even if the punch doesn’t poison the lot of them.’

Vince helps him up and puts an arm around him again, holding him.

‘I could lose my position on the Board over this.’ Naboo is trembling from head to foot.

Vince pulls him closer. ‘It’s all right, sweetheart.’

‘ _Sweetheart_?’ Naboo looks sharply at him. ‘How much did you drink?’

‘Only a mouthful,’ Vince admits. ‘I didn’t really like it.’

‘Just as well. Gonna need your help.’ Naboo seems really small and frail as he leans against Vince.

It makes Vince feel all big and protective. He tries to make his voice deep, like Howard’s. ‘I’ll help you, course I will.’

There’s a knock on the door. ‘Is anyone in there?’

‘Just comin’, Dennis.’ Vince unlocks the door and opens it.

Dennis looks thoughtfully down at the two of them. ‘Oh. I see.’

‘Naboo was a bit under the weather,’ Vince says, holding him up, ‘think he’s mixed his drinks a bit unwisely.’

‘Quite.’ Dennis nods sagely. ‘Well, I... er... yes.’ He sways on his feet, staggers across the bathroom and grabs the washbasin for support.

Vince shuts the door behind him, and turns to Naboo. ‘Right then, what can I do to help?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Well, there must be _somethin_ ’ we can do, even if it’s just chuckin’ a bucket of cold water over everybody.’

‘I don’t _know_ ,’ Naboo wails. ‘It’s a disaster. I don’t even know where to start.’

‘Come on, you can do better than that.’ Vince gives Naboo’s shoulders a friendly shake. ‘You’re a mighty shaman, aren’t you? You must have, I dunno, spells or potions or... Hey, what about those thousand-year-old books of yours?’

‘Like they’re gonna help.’

‘It’s gotta be worth a try, hasn’t it? I mean, this can’t be the first time love potions’ve got mixed up. Someone somewhere must’ve worked out an antidote or something.’

Naboo sighs. ‘We could have a look, I suppose.’

‘That’s the spirit.’ Vince propels Naboo down the corridor to his bedroom.

Naboo opens his secret cupboard and hauls out a pile of dusty old books; the two of them sit on the bed and start thumbing through them.

‘These are well useless.’ Vince chucks the first two books aside. ‘I can’t even read them, they’re all in runes.’

‘I know. Dunno why I keep them, really, I can’t read ’em either...’ Naboo picks up a thick, leather-bound volume from the pile. ‘This one might have somethin’, though.’

Vince peers at the gilt-lettered spine. ‘ _Dictionary of Magical Solutions_. That sounds like just the ticket.’

‘Yeah, but where to look? There’s about a million things in ’ere.’ Naboo flicks helplessly through the tissue-thin pages. ‘Is it under A for Antidote, P for Potion, L for Love...’

‘How about M for Mixup?’ Vince suggests.

Naboo snorts and drops the book on the bed. ‘It’s hopeless.’ He buries his face in his hands. ‘I’m finished.’

‘Well, I’m not.’ Vince picks the book up, turns to ‘M’ and starts reading. ‘ _Masterwords... Meerkats... Merkins... Mermaids_... Here you go, look. _Mixups. In cases where an unknown mixture of potions may have been ingested, Jaguar Tears are recommended as a universal antidote. Add to mixture and wait until blue colour appears, then ensure all affected individuals partake._..’

‘Vince, if I ever called you a ballbag, I take it back. You’re a genius.’ Naboo flings his arm round Vince’s shoulders and kisses him.

For someone who claims not to have sex, Naboo is a surprisingly expert and passionate kisser. Vince is too astonished to do anything other than kiss him back.

For a little while the world is a pleasant blur of soft lips and warm breath and the silky-softness of Naboo’s hair, until the little shaman pulls away and buries his face in Vince’s shoulder. ‘Prob’ly shouldn’t’ve done that. But it was nice.’

Vince hugs him and strokes his hair; he doesn’t want to let him go, he’s so small and delicate and pretty, and he smells fabulous...

‘It was really nice. A bloke could fall for you, y’know?’

‘Not much sign of it so far,’ Naboo sighs.

It’s never occurred to Vince that Naboo might even be interested in getting off with anybody. ‘You ’ad your eye on someone?’

‘Hopeless. He’s never even liked me. Never mind falling for me.’

‘ _I_ could fall for you...’

‘You’d better not. Howard wouldn’t like it.’

‘Howard? What’s it got to do wiv _Howard_? He wouldn’t even _notice_.’

Naboo looks up at the fourth wall, rolls his eyes and shakes his head.

There is the sound effect of a penny dropping onto a wooden floor.

‘Oh.’ Vince suddenly realises that it _does_ have something to do with Howard. Quite a lot to do with Howard. In fact, it might _all_ be to do with Howard...

He lets go of Naboo. ‘No hard feelings, eh?’

‘It’s fine, Vince. It was just the potion talking... C’m’on, let’s sort this mess out.’ Naboo scrambles off the bed and goes back to the cupboard. ‘Jaguar tears,’ he mutters, ‘where are they... Ah.’ He turns round with a triumphant smile, holding up a soggy little skin pouch. ‘Good thing I stocked up last time we went to Shamansbury’s. An’ they’re still within their spell-by date. I just hope it’ll be enough.’

‘Course it will,’ Vince says heartily.

All the same, he crosses his fingers on the way back to the lounge, just in case.


	2. 'This is all kinds of wrong.'

Vince stops dead in the lounge doorway, staring in shock. ‘Holy fuckin’ Jagger, what’s goin’ on ’ere?’

‘See what I mean? They’ve all gone wrong.’ Naboo pulls him into the smoky, steamy atmosphere of the crowded room. ‘It’s a complete mess. None of this was supposed to ’appen.’

Vince can feel his eyes growing wider and wider as they make their way towards the kitchen. It seems that nothing has escaped the effects of the punch, with its cocktail of assorted love potions: even the climbing plant where Vince tipped his drink has leaned over and entwined the TV aerial with heart-shaped tendrils.

All over the room, couples are swaying slowly to ‘ _Once, Twice, Three Times A Lady_ ’. Not just couples. Threesomes. Groups. And much of the swaying is accompanied by snogging, groping or tuneless humming; sometimes by all three.

Kirk is straddling Saboo’s lap in the armchair next to the TV. ‘This is all kinds of wrong,’ Saboo protests, before Kirk shuts him up with a passionate kiss and begins to unfasten his belt.

Vince turns hastily away, and almost trips over Dennis’s outstretched feet; the Head Shaman is snuggled up on the sofa next to Bollo, gazing at him and stroking his fur. ‘So soft... I never imagined... I can’t remember what it was like to have hair, you know, it was so long ago... Hold me, I’m feeling old and lonely tonight...’

There’s a sudden outburst of girly giggling from behind the sofa. Vince peers round the back, and finds Diane and Methuselah sprawled full-length in a complex, semi-clothed tangle of green-and-white limbs and buttocks and boobs.

Naboo draws a sharp breath, and winces. ‘I didn’t need to see that.’

‘I think I did though.’ Vince grins. ‘An’ I’d quite like to see more of it, an’ all.’

‘What was that?’ Naboo whips round, startled by a heavy thump coming from the landing.

‘Better check it out.’ Vince goes with him to see.

It turns out to be three oldies – _very_ oldies – going for the Geriatric Threeway at the top of the stairs.

‘Now that, I definitely did _not_ need to see. You’re right, Naboo, they’ve all gone wrong.’

Naboo tugs on Vince’s sleeve. ‘Come on, let’s sort this mess out before someone gets hurt.’

Nobody’s tried to speak to them; all of the party guests seem oblivious, lost in their own little worlds of love. Or maybe they just think he and Naboo are a couple. Either way nobody’s tried to get off with Vince, for which he’s deeply thankful.

And it gives him an excuse to hold Naboo’s hand for just a bit longer...

The kitchen is deserted; on the table, the cauldron is still bubbling softly to itself.

Naboo wastes no time in emptying his little pouch of jaguar tears into the pink, sweet-smelling punch; it fizzes, boils up almost to the rim, then suddenly calms down and changes to clear blue.

‘Think that’s OK now.’ Naboo dips a finger in and has a cautious taste.

‘Shall I try?’ Vince offers.

Naboo ladles half an inch into a clean glass and watches anxiously as Vince sips at it.

Vince is expecting that revolting perfumey taste, but the punch is now clear and refreshing, like pure mineral water with just the faintest hint of peppermint. And a lot of alcohol.

‘Oh yeah, this is more like it.’ Vince knocks it back and goes for a second helping.

‘Steady on,’ Naboo says, ‘we need to make sure everyone drinks it, an’ there’s not much left.’

Vince looks down at him. His hair’s got a bit out of place, but it’s no longer an irresistible temptation to stroke it back into shape...

That is still a beautiful smile, though.

‘How’re we gonna get ’em all to drink?’

‘No idea.’ Naboo looks anxious again. ‘Was kinda hopin’ you’d think of something?’

It still gives Vince a warm glow, to be depended on like this. He looks round at the roomful of drugged-up, loved-up shamen and thinks very hard. They need something that’ll fit in with this bizarre scene, something that everyone will happily go along with... Aha. Got it.

‘A toast!’ Vince announces loudly, putting his arm round Naboo, just for appearance’s sake. ‘Everyone drink a toast to St Valentine and true love!’ He fills a jug with the blue liquid and goes round everyone’s glasses.

‘True love!’ ‘True love!’

It’s hard work, making sure they all drink, but Vince is good with people, he’s very persuasive.

‘St Valentine and true love!’ Vince clinks glasses with Kirk and Saboo, tips a few drops of the antidote into the plant pot, and turns the TV set off. He’s had enough slushy power ballads to last him through several future Valentine’s Days.

‘Music!’ someone shouts. Vince grabs the nearest CD – Bollo’s latest obsession, Swedish House Mafia – and puts it on.

The jaguar tears are working. One by one, two by two or three by three, people are coming out of their trance-like state, shaking their heads as if to clear them, getting to their feet and dancing.

... ‘ _and there’s no antidote_ ’... This track is genius. Vince catches Naboo’s eye, and they smile at each other.

‘Nice work,’ Naboo says quietly. ‘Thanks, Vince. I think it’s gonna be OK now.’

Vince looks around the room. Dennis is dancing clumsily with Methuselah, apologising as he steps on her toes yet again; Kirk is staring into space and grooving to his own particular beat; Bollo is in the kitchen stirring the cauldron; and Saboo has turned his back on everybody and is looking out of the window as though this whole party is beneath him...

But someone is missing. Someone important.

Vince feels a lurch in his stomach that has nothing to do with the drink he’s just had.

‘Hang on, where’s Howard?’

Naboo shrugs. ‘Better go an’ find him, make sure he drinks some of this.’

Glass in hand, Vince goes down the corridor. ‘Howard?’

He’s not in the bathroom.

He’s not in Vince’s room, or in Naboo’s.

Vince opens Howard’s bedroom door, and once again stops dead in shock.

Howard is on his bed.

Howard is naked and on all fours on his bed, with a blissful smile on his face.

About to be rogered by a grinning Tony Harrison, who is propped on a pillow at Howard’s rear end, one pink tentacle wrapped firmly around Howard’s thigh and another one exploring the dark crevice of Howard’s surprisingly shapely and attractive arse.

‘Oi, get off him!’ Vince yells indignantly.

The alien continues his explorations. ‘Go ’way, son, you were the one said I should find someone else’s leg to climb, an’ I did. Great big gorgeous long Northern pins, this man’s got. As well as a great big gorgeous long...’

Vince flips his lid. ‘I don’t wanna hear it.’ He strides over to the bed and tips the glassful of potion over Harrison’s ballbag of a head.

‘Oi, that’s cold! This is an outrage... oooh, tastes good though.’ Tony licks his lips. ‘Now then, where was I... Hey, what the fuck am I doin ’ere with this idiot? Don’t tell me I was about to –’

‘You definitely _looked_ as though you were about to.’ Vince reaches down and hauls Tony off the bed, dropping him onto the rug with an unpleasant squelch.

‘Eeeuww. Good thing you came in when you did. Thanks, son, I owe you one. But first I need a drink.’ And with that, Tony wriggles off back to the party.

‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’ Howard sits up and hastily wraps himself in the sheet. ‘Vince, how dare you interfere in my love life?’

‘ _Love life_? With that pink monstrosity? I was saving your arse. Literally. Howard, it wasn’t what you thought...’

But Howard is too angry to listen. ‘Fuck off, Vince. I was about to get off for the first time in my life, and you had to come along and ruin it. Just like you always do.’

Ouch. That hurts. Even though Howard does have a point, of sorts. Vince thinks guiltily about all the times Howard’s been about to get off with someone and Vince has tried to help and ended up not helping at all, leaving Howard lonely and frustrated yet again...

Vince takes a deep breath and looks at the little bit of blue liquid left in the bottom of the glass. Maybe it’ll be enough.

He holds the glass out to Howard. ‘Listen, just drink this an’ it’ll all make sense.’

Howard glares at him. ‘Why, what is it? Not another one of Naboo’s concoctions, that pink stuff was disgusting.’

‘That pink stuff was stuffed full of love potions. Enough to make even a sane man go wrong an’ want to get off with Tony Tentacle Harrison. This is an antidote. An’ it tastes pretty good, an’ all.’ Vince goes on holding out the glass. ‘Please, Howard. I’m sorry I messed things up for you an’ I understand why you’re angry an’ I know this has been a rubbish Valentine’s Day but please... please just drink this before you go any more wrong.’

Howard hesitates for an agonisingly long time before reaching out to take the glass. Vince is very careful not to let their fingers touch. If he’s ever going to get attention from Howard, he wants it to be real attention, not infatuation caused by magical chemicals.

He watches Howard’s face redden and screw up with embarrassment as the antidote takes effect and Howard realises what was about to happen and what Vince has just seen.

There’s an awkward silence.

Vince takes the empty glass from Howard’s hand and puts it on the bedside table.

‘I did go wrong, didn’t I?’ Howard says in a small voice, curling up with his head on his knees.

‘Yeah, you did a bit.’ Vince sits down on the end of the bed. ‘But it wasn’t your fault, Howard. It really wasn’t. That punch made lots of people do lots of things they wouldn’t’ve done otherwise.’

‘What did _you_ do?’ Howard’s voice is suddenly sharp.

‘Nuffink... well... OK, I might’ve fancied Naboo a bit. But only a little bit. I only had one mouthful. And you gotta admit, he does have genius hair.’

‘Hmmm.’ Howard doesn’t sound convinced.

‘Yours is better though.’ Vince leans over and runs his fingers through it.

‘Don’t touch me.’ Howard is clutching the sheet tightly round himself, shivering all over. ‘Don’t, Vince. I feel... soiled. I... We... There were bodily secretions involved...’

Vince shakes his head. ‘I don’t need to know about that. But if you feel dirty, why not go an’ have a shower?’

‘Yes, I think I will...’ Howard scrambles off the bed, still wrapped in the sheet, and shuffles awkwardly out of the room.

Vince sits back down on the bed and tries to think what to do next; how to help Howard get over this.

He looks at the damp patch on the bottom sheet, and has an idea.

It only takes a couple of minutes to strip the dirty linen from the bed and shove it in the laundry basket; then he goes up the corridor and stands just outside the bathroom door. ‘Howard?’

Howard opens the door a crack, letting out a cloud of soap-scented steam. ‘What is it? Do you need the bathroom? I’ll only be a few more minutes.’

‘No, I just thought... well... if you wanted to sleep in my bed tonight...’

‘You what? Not you too, Vince, I thought you said you’d taken the antidote.’ Howard’s frowning; he looks scared. He might slam the door shut at any moment.

‘I didn’t mean _that_ ,’ Vince says hastily, ‘I just meant that my bed’s dry and clean and you haven’t just been almost-bummed by an alien in it. I thought you might feel more comfortable there, is all. An’ there’s plenty of room, it’s a double, but I’ll sleep on the sofa if you want.’

‘There’s no need for that.’ Howard’s frown goes a bit less frown-y. ‘Thank you, Vince. I’ll... I’ll think about it.’

He shuts the door again.

Suddenly exhausted, Vince heads for his own bed, strips to his underpants and tucks himself under the covers.

He’s almost asleep when there’s a quiet knock on the door.

‘Vince?’

‘Come in, Howard.’

‘Oh, I’m sorry... Were you asleep?’ Howard comes shyly into the room, all clean and dry and in his paisley pyjamas.

‘No. Nearly, but not quite. Come on in.’ Vince turns back the corner of the duvet on the empty side of the bed.

Howard hesitates for only a moment before clambering in and turning out the bedside light. ‘Thank you, this is better than my bed... How much longer d’you think they’re going to carry on with their party?’

‘Dunno.’ Vince is a bit distracted; Howard’s warmth is radiating all the way into his own side of the bed. ‘What time is it?’

‘Must be nearly midnight.’

The music in the lounge comes to an abrupt end. ‘Right, you ballbags, that’s enough entertainment for one night, time you all went home.’

Vince giggles. ‘Must be past Naboolio’s bedtime.’

‘Come on, everybody out.’ It’s Naboo’s best giving-orders voice, the one he uses to make Vince and Howard do the stocktake.

Footsteps clatter downstairs; there are calls of ‘goodnight’ and ‘happy Valentine’s Day’ and ‘thanks for a great party.’

‘I _said_ , everybody out.’

‘ _Everybody?_ ’ Saboo asks, in a voice like honeyed velvet.

It goes quiet for a minute, then Naboo makes an astonished, ecstatic little noise and Bollo grunts: ‘Bollo not need to see that. Suppose Bollo have to sleep in broom cupboard now.’

The gorilla’s footsteps stomp down the stairs. ‘Oh, hello Bollo,’ Dennis says, ‘are you coming to the club with us, then?’

The front door closes and the happy voices fade away down the street.

‘Another disaster of a Valentine’s Day,’ Howard grumbles, pulling the duvet up round his chin. ‘Everybody got a date but us.’

‘Poor Howard,’ Vince croons, reaching for Howard’s hand under the covers, ‘all alone on Valentine’s night...’

‘Except for you,’ Howard mutters.

‘Except for me.’ Vince links his fingers through Howard’s, and holds on tight.

There is a short silence.

Vince looks up at the fourth wall, rolls his eyes and shakes his head.

The scene fades to black, accompanied by the sound effect of a penny dropping onto a wooden floor.


	3. 'You've lived with him, I only work with him. What does he really want?'

Well, this isn’t how Vince expected Valentine’s Day to end: with himself and Howard lying side by side in bed, holding hands.

Vince surreptitiously moves his other hand over to his bottom, and pinches himself, not hard enough to make him go ‘ouch’ and have to explain the ‘ouch’ to Howard, but hard enough to convince himself that this is in fact really happening and not just a hallucination brought on by all the drinks (and other strange experiences) he’s had over the course of the evening.

Yes, it’s really happening. Howard’s slightly chilly, slightly trembly fingers are in fact really linked through his own, hanging on as though Vince is a lifeline and Howard’s in danger of being swept away.

There seems no need to say anything, and Vince is a bit worried that if he does say anything Howard will take fright and change his mind, and then they’ll have to start again, so he just lies there quietly, until all those drinks start to make themselves felt...

He sighs, unfolds his hand from Howard’s and clicks the bedside light on.

‘What is it?’ Howard fidgets nervously. ‘Have you changed your mind? Should I go?’

‘No, you plonker, course not. I’m just goin’ to the bathroom. You stay right there, keep the bed warm for me, OK?’

‘OK.’ Howard settles back on the pillows. ‘I thought for a minute –’

Vince pauses with one arm in and one arm out of his floral kimono, and looks at Howard’s worried face. ‘You thought wrong. This is for real, Howard. You’n’me, on Valentine’s Day... Genius, innit?’

Some of the worry-lines smooth away from Howard’s forehead. ‘Yes, it’s... very nice.’

Vince still has a big stupid grin on his face when he comes out of the bathroom and collides with Naboo, who is standing right outside the door.

‘Alright, Naboo?’ Vince helps him up off the floor and brushes him down.

‘Fine, thanks... Listen, Vince, can you do us a favour?’

‘Anything,’ Vince says, without hesitation.

‘You got a spare toothbrush?’

Vince can feel his big stupid grin growing even wider. ‘There’s a new neon green one in the cabinet, still in the packet... He’s stayin’ the night, then?’

‘Looks like it.’ Naboo sounds casual, but he can’t help breaking into another of those beautiful smiles.

‘Good for you.’

‘Fanks. An’ you’n’Howard...?’

‘Think so, yeah. Thanks for the tipoff. If it hadn’t been for you, I wouldn’t have...’

‘We’re all square, then. If it hadn’t been for you, I wouldn’t’ve either.’ Naboo stands on tiptoe and kisses Vince chastely on the cheek. ‘Happy Valentine’s Day.’

‘Same to you.’ Vince pulls the little shaman into a brief hug. ‘Sweet dreams, eh?’

‘I reckon so.’ And with a flash of that brilliant smile, Naboo vanishes into the bathroom.

To Vince’s great relief, Howard is still in his bed; he hasn’t even moved. Vince wriggles under the duvet and into the welcome warmth. ‘Now then, where were we?’

‘You were, um, holding my hand,’ Howard says, breathing fast and shallow.

Vince giggles. ‘I could hold somethin’ else instead if you want.’

Howard tenses up. Vince kicks himself. ‘Would you rather I slept on the sofa?’

‘No.’ Howard rolls onto his side; puts an arm clumsily over Vince as though to stop him escaping. ‘No, don’t go, I just... well, I wasn’t expecting this, you know, you, tonight, and after what happened earlier...’

‘You feel a bit weird about us havin’ sex.’

‘We’re not having sex,’ Howard says, too quickly.

‘OK, you feel a bit weird even thinkin’ about us havin’ sex. An’ you are thinkin’ about it, an’ so am I. But we don’t’ – Vince wriggles in Howard’s tight embrace – ‘we don’t have to do it right away, ’s’nice just bein’ here like this... although you might need to move your arm a bit, it’s making it hard to breathe.’

Howard unlocks his arm from round Vince’s ribs, and Vince heaves in a huge lungful of air. ‘That’s better, cheers. No, don’t let go of me, I like you holdin’ me, it feels...’

He stops to think how it does feel. It feels all sorts of things, being held by Howard. Really held, not just one of Howard’s reluctant we’re-just-friends hugs, but a proper, awkward, I-really-mean-this-but-I-don’t-know-what-happens-next hug, all warm and breathless and very, very sexy.

‘...Right,’ Vince says finally. ‘It feels right. Like I’ve been away, and come home, an’ there’s a cup of tea on the table waiting for me, an’ I don’t have to worry about anythin’, I can just chill out an’ enjoy it.’

‘So you’re saying... I’m your cup of tea?’ Howard is still tense; still cautious.

‘You so are.’ Vince hugs him, and the big man starts to relax in his arms.

Vince relaxes too. It’s going to work this time. They’re not going to cock it up, not like that time on the roof.

And talking of cocking it up... that is one impressive erection tenting Howard’s pyjama trousers and nudging into Vince’s side. He wonders what Howard would do if he reached down to touch.

He decides to find out.

Howard gasps and shudders in a very gratifying way, even though Vince has barely brushed that hot, hard flesh with a fingertip. ‘Vince... you’d better not... I’m...’ He takes a deep breath. ‘It’s not that I don’t want you to, it’s just that... last time...’

He gives up, and hides his burning face in Vince’s shoulder.

‘Last time you lasted about ten seconds,’ Vince supplies helpfully, holding Howard tight, ‘an’ it was embarrassin’, ’specially since it was with Tony Harrison.’

‘M-hm.’ Howard doesn’t look up.

‘But this time...’ Vince kisses the top of Howard’s head. ‘This time it’s with me, an’ it’s not gonna be embarrassin’, it’s gonna be nice, however long it lasts –’

‘ –Or doesn’t.’

‘Don’t matter. I promise I won’t laugh or make you feel small or nothin’. Even if you only last one second. I’m not expectin’ anythin’, it’s all a bonus an’ it’s all good. Now...’ He brushes a fingertip along Howard’s cock again. ‘How about we get rid of those pyjamas? They’re crampin’ my style.’

‘And I wouldn’t want them getting stained and crumpled.’ Howard wriggles clumsily out of his nightwear, letting a rush of cold air in under the duvet.

Vince shivers – then lets out a gasp as Howard reaches for him and slides the elastic of his underpants down.

Howard’s hands are cold, but Vince is too surprised and delighted to protest; he just lifts himself up so that Howard can slide the pants all the way down and pull them right off him.

Howard takes one look at their two naked bodies and pulls the covers hastily back over both of them.

They lie there for a moment or two, catching their breath. This is like a dream come true, being nude in bed with Howard...

‘Ouch!’

‘What was that?’ Howard looks round in alarm.

Vince giggles. ‘Just pinched meself.’

‘So did I,’ Howard admits. ‘Obviously not as hard as you did, but still... it looks like this is really happening. So, um, let’s make it happen a bit more, shall we?’

He reaches for Vince again, nervous but determined, his chilly fingers raising goosebumps all over Vince’s skin and making Vince realise that Howard isn’t the only one to be in danger of losing control in seconds flat.

Howard’s belly is nice and warm even though his hands were cold. Vince traces a fingertip around Howard’s navel, feeling the big man shiver.

They take a deep breath, and pull each other closer at the same moment, rolling on their sides to get more contact. Vince isn’t sure exactly who is holding exactly what, but who cares when it feels as brilliant as this?

He wants it to last all night, the tickle of Howard’s moustache on his neck, Howard’s skin sliding against his own, Howard’s hardness hot and leaking in his palm, Howard’s fingers wrapped oh-so-carefully around his aching erection, the little pleased noises Howard makes as they thrust against each other...

And the triumphant, astonished grin on Howard’s face when Vince loses it and comes first.

Followed by Howard about two seconds later.

Afterwards Howard lies there all warm and passive while Vince cleans them both up and tucks the duvet back round them.

‘That was genius.’ Vince settles down contentedly, with his head pillowed on Howard’s shoulder.

‘It was, wasn’t it?’ Howard wraps an arm round him. ‘Happy Valentine’s Day, little man.’

There’s a thud from the next-door bedroom, and the sound of raised voices.

‘Uh-oh. Someone else ain’t so happy.’ Vince sighs. ‘Poor Naboo, I was hopin’ it’d work out for him too tonight.’

Angry footsteps cross the floor, and Naboo’s door creaks open. ‘Look, you plum,’ Saboo growls, ‘I’ve said I’m sorry, what the hell else d’you want me to say?’

Naboo’s reply is inaudible, and doesn’t stop Saboo from storming off down the corridor and slamming the lounge door behind him.

Vince sits up and listens.

‘Nothing we can do,’ Howard murmurs.

‘There might be.’ Vince swings his legs to the floor, and reaches for his kimono.

‘What are you doing?’

‘Saboo hasn’t gone.’

‘What?’

‘Didn’t hear the front door. An’ we always hear it, it creaks even worse than the one in your room.’

‘He might have just magically transported away. He is a shaman, you know,’ Howard points out.

Vince knots his belt around himself. ‘Well, in that case he could’ve just made a dramatic exit from Naboo’s room, couldn’t he? Bet you five euros he’s still here.’

‘Bet you ten he isn’t. Anyway, even if he is here, it’s between him and Naboo, isn’t it? Shouldn’t we just leave them to sort it out?’

‘Like Naboo will have the slightest idea how to sort it out.’ Vince shakes his head. ‘This is all new to him, he was in a right state earlier thinkin’ it’d never ’appen, and now it’s all gone wrong he’ll be in pieces. An’ that Saboo’s such a stuck-up-himself git, won’t make the first move, too proud.’ He crosses to the doorway. ‘Howard, all of what’s happened to us tonight is down to Naboo... I’ve gotta at least see whether I can help.’

‘Fair enough. I’ll keep the bed warm for you.’

The promise in Howard’s voice is almost enough to make Vince turn back on the spot, but he can’t just turn his back on Naboo.

He taps on Naboo’s bedroom door. ‘You OK in there?’

‘No.’ Naboo sounds utterly miserable.

‘Anythin’ I can do?’

‘No.’ There’s a faint rustle, like bedcovers being pulled more tightly around someone who’s cold.

‘You wanna talk?’

‘No.’ Another faint rustle, like bedcovers being pulled right up over someone’s head.

Then silence.

Vince wants to just go in there and hug Naboo, potion or no potion, but he’s not the person who needs to do that.

The person who _does_ need to do that is pacing the floor in front of the sofa, scowling furiously and twirling his feathered hat between his fingers.

He wheels round at the sound of the door opening. ‘About fucking time... Oh. It’s you.’

‘He won’t come,’ Vince says, stopping in the doorway under the impact of that furious scowl.

‘Might as well go home then,’ Saboo snaps, jamming his hat viciously onto his head and crumpling its feathers in the process. ‘Little tit can’t say I didn’t give him a chance. You can tell him from me to go fuck himself.’

He turns away, but makes no move to actually leave.

‘What happened?’ Vince asks quietly.

Saboo sighs suddenly, and his shoulders slump. ‘I don’t know.’

Vince takes a cautious step or two into the room. ‘He turned his back on you?’

It’s a wild guess, but Saboo is nodding. Vince takes another step closer.

‘Was it because of, you know, the potion, and you and Kirk...?’

Saboo throws the hat onto the coffee table, and sits down heavily on the sofa. ‘No. I think it was more...’ He shakes his head. ‘I don’t know. I don’t know what to think. I went wrong somewhere. One minute it was fine, and the next minute it wasn’t.’

‘Too far, too fast?’ Vince asks, perching on the arm of the sofa.

‘Maybe.’ Saboo seems at a loss, his bravado drooping like the feather in his hat. ‘Listen, you know him better than I do. You’ve lived with him, I only work with him. What does he really want? I thought it was sex, but...’ He hides his face in his hands.

Vince thinks hard. Very hard. He’d never expected that Saboo would ask his advice, something that’s probably never going to happen again, and it has to be the right advice, something that’ll make Naboo happy. Otherwise Vince and Howard are going to be working for the boss from hell for the foreseeable, and poor Bollo will get it in the neck and start to lose his fur from the stress...

‘I think,’ Vince says slowly, ‘he does really want sex, but sometime in the future, not right now. Right now, all he really wants is a nice cup of tea and someone to be kind to him.’

‘You really think it’s that simple?’

‘I really do. He’s been on his own a long time.’

‘He’s got Bollo.’

‘Yeah, but he’s a familiar, not a partner. He takes care of Naboo but not, you know, not like by sleepin’ with him or anything. An’ Bollo ain’t exactly the brightest lamp in the street, bein’ an ape, there’s lots of things he don’t understand.’

‘Things Naboo can’t talk to him about.’

‘Exactly.’ Vince slides off the sofa arm to sit next to Saboo. ‘Listen, Naboo’s always there for me’n’Howard, to sort us out when we get in a mess, but who’s there to sort him out? No wonder he’s always high, this ain’t even his own planet an’ he’s been stuck here for centuries.’

Saboo looks up, a thoughtful frown creasing his brows. ‘I hadn’t really considered that. He always seems so irritatingly self-sufficient.’

‘Seems, yeah, but isn’t. He was petrified tonight when that punch went wrong, thought he’d get chucked off the Board an’ all. He needs someone to lean on.’ Vince remembers Naboo leaning on him, in the bathroom; how small and frail he felt. ‘You might need to let him lean for quite a while before he’s up for anything more. Might take him ages. Or five minutes. Who knows? He is an Enigma, after all.’

‘You don’t have to tell _me_ that.’ Saboo’s still frowning, but his voice has lost its edge. It sounds almost... affectionate.

Vince grins, and goes and puts the kettle on.

‘You’re serious about the tea?’ Saboo gets to his feet, a little shakily, and joins Vince by the kitchen table.

‘This household _runs_ on tea. As you’ll find out if you’re plannin’ on spendin’ any time here.’ Vince rummages among the party debris on the worktop until he finds four reasonably clean mugs and the box of PG Tips. He puts two filled mugs on a tray. ‘There’s two sugars in the blue one. Should do the trick.’

‘Thanks.’ Saboo looks doubtfully at the tray Vince has just handed him.

‘Oh, I know it don’t look like magic, but it’ll work as good as any of your fancy potions.’ Vince adds a packet of Hobnobs to the tray, just to be on the safe side. ‘Chocolate biscuit an’ a hug, an’ I reckon you’ll be well in. See you in the morning.’

He waves aside Saboo’s clumsy thanks; watches as Saboo carries the tray carefully back up the passageway and disappears into Naboo’s room, without knocking.

When Saboo hasn’t reappeared after a good five minutes, Vince shoves the milk back into the fridge and scoots back to bed with the other two mugs of tea.

‘Well?’ Howard sits up and holds out a hand for his mug.

‘You owe me ten euros,’ Vince says smugly, sipping at his tea.

‘Did you help?’

Vince drains his mug and puts it down. ‘I think so. We’ll find out in the morning.’

‘Might not have to wait till the morning.’ Howard is smirking.

‘What d’you mean?’

‘Listen.’

Vince listens. The murmur of voices the other side of the wall has more or less stopped... and there is the sound of bedsprings creaking in a familiar rhythm.

He grins. ‘Sounds as though they’re...’

‘It does, doesn’t it?’ Howard bounces on the bed, in the same rhythm.

‘We could be, too.’ Vince bounces on top of Howard, almost spilling what’s left of his tea.

He expects Howard to say ‘careful’ but instead Howard is grinning. ‘We could, couldn’t we?’

He puts his cup down and pulls Vince into a fierce hug.

The hug escalates rapidly into kisses, lots of kisses. Howard’s been saving them up for Vince for a long time, and now Vince feels like all his birthdays have come at once, only this is even better than any present he’s ever had, even the Nicky Clarke hair straighteners he bought himself the birthday-before-last. Howard is generous with his kisses, and Vince gives as good as he gets, and pretty soon Vince has chucked his kimono on the floor and wrapped Howard around himself instead.

Howard’s hands are all over Vince’s skin, softer and warmer and sexier than any fabric could ever be, and now they’re wrapping round the most sensitive bits of Vince, making him wriggle and whimper and plead: ‘More, Howard. Please, more...’

Howard hesitates for a moment. ‘Vince... can we...’

‘What, Howard?’ Vince thrusts into Howard’s hand, unable to help himself. ‘What do you want?’

‘I... Both of us.’ Howard takes a deep breath. ‘Want to touch both of us, together.’ He’s blushing and stammering and utterly adorable.

‘Like this, you mean?’ Vince kneels astride Howard’s hips and shuffles around a bit, so his cock is lined up alongside Howard’s. Then he wraps a hand around both of them, shuddering with delight at this strange and delicious new feeling.

‘Yes. Like this. Thank you...’ Howard reaches down and puts his hand round both of them too, and they start to move together in a slow and slightly unsteady rhythm.

‘I often wondered... I dreamed about this, you know.’ Howard is still blushing, but he looks really happy now, instead of nervous. ‘I used to imagine what it would be like, to touch you, to touch us both...’

‘An’ is it like how you imagined?’

‘Better.’ Howard’s smile lights up the bedroom; illuminates Vince’s future. ‘I could never have imagined how much better. Vince...’

‘Shush. Less talk, more action.’ Vince can feel Howard’s bits all hot and throbbing against his own, and his hand’s getting slippery with sweat, or something.

Whether it’s Howard’s or-something or Vince’s or-something is hard to tell. It’s probably both. Vince doesn’t care when it feels so good, slick and smooth, like Bailey’s and clotted cream and warm Nutella all melted into one.

‘Oh.’ Howard can’t keep quiet. ‘Oh, little man...’

‘What d’you mean, _little_ man?’ Vince thrusts into their joined hands, and glances warningly at the fourth wall. ‘We’re the same size.’

Not that it matters. They fit together so well. The rhythm of their bodies is strong and steady and in synch now, the perfect double-act without even needing words.

Howard leans his head back on the pillow and lets out a wordless moan that at any other time Vince would probably find hysterically funny but which right now he just finds incredibly, improbably sexy.

He brushes his thumb lightly across the wet, swollen heads of both their pricks, and that’s all it takes to tip Howard over the edge, gasping and thrashing, half-laughing, half-sobbing, utterly happy...

Followed by Vince about two seconds later.

Everything’s wet and sticky and warm and for a while all they can do is hang on to each other and wait for their racing heartbeats to slow back down to walking pace.

‘Thank you,’ Howard says, his small eyes all crinkled at the corners with love. ‘Vince, that was... Thank you. Just thank you.’

‘You’re welcome.’ Vince can’t do anything except lie there.

Howard fusses with tissues and dries them both off.

Vince carries on just lying there. He feels totally floppy, like a strawberry bootlace on a hot summer day. He loves the feeling of being cared for by Howard; those big hands could tie him in a knot if they wanted, although Vince has the feeling that they want to do something far more interesting once he and Howard have recovered...

Howard’s elbow knocks the tissue box off the bedside table.

‘Drat.’ Howard reaches under the bed to pick it up again. Then he chuckles. ‘Hey, look at this.’

‘What?’ Vince props himself on one elbow.

‘THAT photo.’ Howard sits down on the bed next to him. ‘The one you used to try to, erm, sell me to those girls as a Valentine’s date.’

‘Sorry about that,’ Vince mumbles. His face is hot. ‘Not one of my better ideas.’

He takes another look, to see whether it’s as bad as he remembered. ‘Blimey, those are very short shorts.’

‘No wonder it didn’t work on the girls,’ Howard says, ‘we should’ve lost the shorts.’

‘Couldn’t agree more.’ Vince gropes Howard’s bare arse, and laughs; then abruptly sobers. ‘Sorry it didn’t get you a date, Howard.’

‘But it did.’ Howard is smiling. ‘It just... took a while for the magic to work.’

Vince shudders dramatically. ‘Don’t talk to me about magic. I’ve had more than enough magic today.’

‘So have I, little man. If we never have to have another shaman party it’ll still be too soon.’

Vince listens to the sounds from the other side of the wall, and grins. ‘Y’know what, Howard? I think we might be quite safe there.’

‘Will you be my date for next Valentine’s day, then?’ Howard sounds soft and serious.

‘Course I will.’ Vince kisses him. ‘With shorts like that in your wardrobe, how could I resist?’


End file.
